


The Battle of Hogwarts

by st_mick



Series: Niffler [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Brooms and giants and portkeys - oh my, M/M, Sixteen year-old Ianto was a madman, Too bad about that drone...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 17:10:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17791409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: So Jack was at the Battle of Hogwarts, with Tosh's drones as overwatch.  The Torchwood team queues up the footage and is able to witness Ianto's courage and ingenuity during the battle, as well as how he blocked out the memory of his capture.





	The Battle of Hogwarts

Jack reached the conference room just in time, after showing Draco and Susan to his bunker.  Toshiko had pulled up the footage, and was about to start when he interrupted.  “Are you certain you want to see this?” he asked.

“I think we need to understand what Ianto went through,” Tosh stated.  “If he is the one that I remember, then I definitely need to know, and I’ll need to wrap my head around it, accordingly.  And I think it would help all of us help him, as he… heals.”  She did not yet know what that would entail, but she did know she wanted to help.

Ron, Hermione and Harry took seats at the table as Tosh queued up the video.  Jack looked from them to Kingsley.  “You sure you want to see this?”

Hermione swallowed, and then nodded.  “We’ve all talked through what happened.  We may be able to fill in some blanks.”

And so, between the video footage and the others’ narrative interspersed, they were able to get a fairly complete picture of Ianto’s participation in the battle, that day.  Before the video started, Hermione explained that in preparation for the battle, Ianto had sent Fred, George and Lee Jordan to the Hog’s Head and Three Broomsticks to clean them out of firewhisky.

Ianto apparated from the Hog’s Head to… somewhere, and retrieved an assault rifle and some ammunition.

“How the hell did a sixteen year-old tea boy know how to fire a rifle?” Owen asked, scowling.

“A misspent youth, is all he’d ever say,” Hermione answered.  “There are some things not even we can get him to talk about,” she added quietly.

“That explains the shots I heard fired, during the battle,” Jack mused.  He looked at his team.  “Wizards don’t use guns.  It kind of stood out.  But I couldn’t get a proper look.  The drone caught some footage, though.”  He shook his head.  “Rifle skills weren’t a requirement in Torchwood One’s training regimen.  Not for researchers, anyway.  When he came here and I tried to expand his training from pistols, he flat out refused to even touch a rifle.  I suppose this is why.”

Tosh started the footage, choosing to keep the sound off, in respect of those who had been there.  She did not wish to trigger them any further than what watching the footage might do.  As they watched the battle begin, Hermione pointed.  “There.  He started at the front of the castle, with everyone else.  Getting a feel for how the battle was unfolding, to see where his best perch would be.”

After some minutes of intense fighting, they saw Ianto – though it was hard to tell from the distance the drone was still keeping – climb onto his broom and fly up to what Hermione called the Astronomy Tower.  One of the drones had been in perfect position to capture what happened next, in great detail.  Tosh was able to zoom in on that screen and turn the sound up, even as the other screen showed the wider battle.

As Ianto landed on the tower, he put down his broom.  He was unslinging the rifle and the bag that held the ammunition and clips when Amycus Carrow burst through the door and shouted, “ _Sectumsempra_!”

“What the fuck was that?” Owen swore.  Harry winced, but no one answered, as everyone was focused on what came next.

Ianto managed to shout, “ _Levicorpus_!” as he staggered back, bleeding profusely.  Through sheer grit, he kept his feet and limped over, using Carrow’s head as a punching bag until the death eater was unconscious. 

Ianto picked up his wand and snapped it in half, throwing it at the unconscious man as he fell back against the wall and dropped his jeans and unbuttoned what was left of his shirt, assessing the damage.  Just then, Draco Malfoy burst through the door, his wand held out in front of him.  Ianto pointed his wand and even from the drone’s distance it was clear that he was raising an eyebrow.

“No time for a standoff, Draco.  Either fight me or leave,” he gritted.

Draco surprised him by pointing his wand at Carrow and moving the levitating body out so the man was suspended above the ground far below rather than over the tower.  “Don’t want him causing trouble, if you lose consciousness,” he drawled.

“Bag,” Ianto pointed, panting.  “Dittany.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, bringing the bottle over to him.  “I know there’s an incantation for this, but I don’t remember it.”

“S’okay,” Ianto muttered.  “Just help me to stop the bleeding.”

They spent the next several minutes with Ianto instructing Draco to close the wounds on his neck and chest so he could fire the rifle. 

“You’re Ianto, right?” Draco asked.

Ianto nodded, biting his lip against the pain.  “Friends call me Nif.  Ow!”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault, Draco.”

Draco looked up in surprise.  “Most call me Malfoy.”

“M’not… most,” Ianto hissed as another wound began to heal.

The bleeding stopped at his neck and shoulder.  It slowed as the slashes to his abdomen and legs were partially closed.  What was left of his shirt was torn up and used for makeshift bandages.  He pulled a hoodie from his bag and put it on.

“Why are you helping me?” he asked Draco, curious.

“Goyle just died,” Draco said.  “Wasn’t the best friend in the world, but still...” he shrugged.  “I spent the better part of the last year watching… _him_ , from the front row.  And I don’t…  I don’t want him to win.  I’ll be disowned, or likely worse, when everyone figures out that my loyalties are not what they are expected to be, but…  I’m tired of this, yeah?”

“Yeah.”  Ianto knew the feeling.  He looked through the bag and, after wiping as much blood from his hands as he could, began opening boxes of ammunition.  “Want to help?”

“That’s a muggle weapon, isn’t it?” Draco asked, with some distaste. 

“And a nasty one, at that,” Ianto answered.  “I don’t know what this makes me, but if it helps us win…”

“Show me what to do.”

Ianto showed Draco how to load the clips.  He quickly field-stripped the rifle and put it back together, making sure everything was in proper working order.  By the time he had it back together, the first clip was ready.  He attached the scope and set up on the parapet, wrapping the strap around him so an _accio_ or _expelliarmus_ spell would be less likely to work. 

He rested the short bipod attached to the barrel on the stone of the parapet and began looking for a target.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he pulled the trigger.

Soon enough, he was firing without hesitation.  He tried not to think about what he was doing.  He merely took aim and fired at those trying to hurt his friends.  He began to take aim at those that were particularly hard to fight – the werewolves and the acromantulas.  He found that giants were not affected by bullets, though getting shot did seem to annoy them.

As Draco loaded clips for Ianto on the left screen, the right showed the rest of the battle.  When one wall of the castle crumbled, Ron made a soft noise.  “That was when Fred…” he whispered as Harry and Hermione reached out to him.

“Ron’s brother… George’s twin, died when that wall came down,” Hermione quietly explained to the others, who gave their condolences.

Suddenly, the smaller screen showed something besides Ianto firing the rifle almost continuously, with Draco handing him new clips in exchange for spent ones that he then reloaded.

Ianto stood up, shouting.  “Goddammit!”

“What?” Draco was taken aback by the anger and vehemence of Ianto’s shout.  He’d been so cool and collected, so far.

“Those fucking giants are killing us,” Ianto ran a hand through his hair.  Then he looked at Draco, a wicked smile forming as an idea took shape.

“Oh, I don’t think I like that look,” Draco said, backing up a step.

“Smart man,” Ron chuckled.

Ianto unloaded the rifle and put it down, then covered it with a tarp.  “Look, Draco.  I appreciate the help.  But unless you want to be outed, then you need to stay out of the fight.  You can fight and do what you can, from here, and no one need know.  You’ll be protected, if things go badly for us.” 

He held up a hand as Draco made to protest.  “Look, if we don’t win today, and this war drags on, then we can use a man inside.  That is, if you’re still against him, if he wins tonight.”  He ran a hand through his hair again.  “Okay.  If we both survive today, meet me on the Plass in Cardiff at noon, in ten days’ time.  If the Death Eaters win today and you want to help us to resist, we can figure out how that might look.  If we win, then I’ll buy you a coffee.”

“Ianto,” Draco said, looking confused.

Ianto grinned at him as he climbed onto his broom.  “Like I said.  My friends call me Nif.”  As he flew away, he shouted back, “You may want to lower Carrow down, or at least put him back over the tower, in case I get knocked off my broom.”

Another drone picked up Ianto as he landed next to the stash of firewhisky.  He pulled out a case holding about a dozen bottles and uncorked one of the middle ones.  Tearing off part of the robe of a fallen Death Eater nearby, he stuffed the fabric down into the neck of the bottle.

He took another case and uncorked all twelve bottles, stuffing fabric down the neck of each.  Using duct tape from his backpack, he attached both cases to his broom.  He didn’t have as much speed or agility, but so far no one was looking up…

He flew using his knees on the case with the one rag to steady the broom, grabbing bottles with his right hand and lighting the fabric using the _incendio_ charm with his wand in his left.  As soon as the fabric lit, he threw each bottle, wreaking havoc amongst the acromantulas and wherever the Death Eaters had grouped together.

“Well, I suppose you can take the boy out of the estate,” Owen deadpanned.

“He’s mad!” Martha laughed as she said it, but flying a _broom_ and pitching Molotov cocktails at the enemy was about as far round the twist as she could think of anyone going.

“Fine line between genius and madness,” Jack said, grinning fondly.

Once he had used all of the individual bottles, he released that box, allowing it to fall to the ground.  Then he pulled loose the remaining box from where it was suspended.  All in mid-air, without disrupting his flight. 

Harry gave a low, appreciative whistle.  “Merlin, he was always a good flyer.”

Ianto hefted the box in his right hand, testing the weight.  He gripped his wand between his teeth and took a firm hold of the broom with his left hand, leaning forward with a gleam in his eye. 

“No, way,” Ron said incredulously, leaning forward.  He had heard what they thought had happened, but seeing it…

Holding the box like an over-sized and oddly shaped quaffle, he took aim at the giant’s head like it was the left hoop on a Quidditch pitch, circling around from the back.  Staying beyond the giant’s periphery until the last possible moment, he swung around and hurled the box into the roaring giant’s mouth.  Grabbing his wand, he shouted, “Incendio!”

The rag lit as the box passed the giant’s teeth.  As the giant closed his mouth in surprise, a dozen bottles of highly flammable liquid ignited. 

Unsurprisingly, the giant’s head exploded.

Ianto had not gained enough distance to get out of range of the gore, and he ended up covered in blood.  As the giant’s body fell, he swooped down, shouting for people to move out of the way.  He dove down and snatched Luna from beneath the giant’s falling body, just in time.  He deposited her some feet away, then flew back towards the stash.

“Katie!” he hollered as he recognized another Quidditch player.

“Yeah,” she ran up.

“We need a less messy way of getting rid of the giants.  Can you find Flitwick, or someone else who can do a bunch of portkeys in a hurry?”

She stared at him a moment before a slow grin spread across her face.  “Oh, that is brilliant, Nif!  I’ll be back in a flash.”

“Find a broom, while you’re at it!” he shouted back. 

He saw Lavender Brown pass, and recruited her to find something sticky.

“I know just the thing!” she laughed grimly.  “Before we had to disappear, Neville got a potion wrong – he made a sort of tar.  Professor Slughorn has been trying to figure out what went wrong, because he thinks it could be a useful substance.  I’ll go get it.”

Ianto cast about for what to use as portkeys, and then spied several schoolmates, who had fallen.  He looked up.  There were seven giants out there.  Seven!  And the corpse of the one he had… he shuddered.  That had not gone quite how he had expected it to.  He shook his head.  So eight portkeys.  Might as well tidy up.  He began removing the shoes of four of those who had fallen, nearby.

“What are you doing?” Katie asked, her voice angry.

“We need portkeys.  I think they’d be happy to help send the giants away, don’t you?”

Her anger dissolved, and Professor Flitwick nodded his approval.  “Eight portkeys, then.  I’ll get them to the Alps, as close to their home as I can.  I think perhaps I shall do two at a time, to be sure there are no… inadvertent travels.  Ten minute delays?”

Ianto nodded as Lavender ran up with the cauldron of tar. 

“What…” Katie frowned.

“Just stick it to their backs and watch them go,” Ianto grinned.

“It’s good for us that you’re not a genius of the evil variety, Nif,” she laughed.  She took out her wand and summoned a broom. 

“Anyone else nearby who can fly?” Ianto began to scan the people fighting.

The next half hour showed Ianto sticking shoes-turned-portkeys to the backs of two giants with some sort of tar.  Katie and Angelina sent two more back, as well, and Lavender stuck a portkey to the dead giant. 

Ianto almost collided with one of the drones as he put on speed and swerved to avoid a curse.  “Watch out!” he shouted instinctively as he veered back again to avoid hitting the drone as he sped past it.

Several seconds passed, and then a filthy, bloody-faced Ianto just sort of rose into view in front of the drone’s camera.  It was almost comical.

“Oh, wow.  I’d forgotten this,” Jack exclaimed.

“Look how young he is,” Martha said, wide-eyed.  “He’s just a baby!”  She frowned.  “That is so sad.”

“Hope we’re providing ample entertainment for you,” young Ianto snarked at the camera.  He stared at it a moment, his head swaying as his eyes went out of focus.  “Drinking your coffee and eating your cupcake…”

“I still want to know how he knew that,” Tosh said.

“Legilimency?  Through a camera?” Hermione frowned, looking at Kingsley, who shrugged a shoulder, looking nonplussed.

“Nope!” Ianto said suddenly.  “Not acceptable.”  He reached out, and the camera seemed to go haywire as he grabbed the drone and turned it upside down.  A few seconds later, he released it.

“Your own fault,” he admonished as the drone regained its bearings.  “Eating a fucking cupcake while my friends are dying.”  He grinned evilly.  “Just make big circles.”

“What did he do?” Owen asked.

“Scrambled the nav,” Tosh answered.  “Couldn’t fly in a straight line – had to do widening circles to get it out of there.”

Owen laughed heartily as the others chuckled, as well.

On the screen, Ianto looked down, surveying the fight, deciding on his flight path to the next giant.  “You know,” he said, almost conversationally.  “If we lose today, this will be a shit-show for wizards and muggles, alike.  Don’t suppose you could send some help.”  He scoffed bitterly.  “Of course not.  Since when do muggle authorities ever fucking help anyone?”  Something in his resentful tone told them that Ianto Jones had given up on receiving help a very long time before he hit sixteen.

He spotted his target.  “Well, thanks for nothing.  Have a nice life.  Wish me luck that mine lasts past today.”  He adjusted his seat on the broom and threw a two-fingered salute at the camera.  “Enjoy your cupcake.”  As he sped off, he shouted back, “And remember, big circles!”

Just as Ianto flew towards the third giant he would be sending back to the Alps, Voldemort’s amplified voice could be heard, offering an armistice.  Ianto stuck the portkey between the giant’s shoulder blades just in time.  As the giant disappeared, a flailing arm smacked Ianto in the chest, sending him flying off his broom and down to the ground, below. 

Within moments, a group of Death Eaters had surrounded him.  After some discussion, they grabbed him by the arms and dragged him off into the forest.

The drones had not gone into the forest, so Tosh forwarded the video to about an hour later, when Voldemort led the Death Eaters out of the forest, along with a weeping Hagrid, who was carrying Harry.  Two giants followed.  Ten minutes later, as Neville was proving his heroism, Ianto stumbled out of the forest. 

He looked terrible.  He fell to his knees, sobbing as he felt around for his wand, knowing it had fallen somewhere close by.  When he found it, he gave another strangled sob, then almost hysterically, he said, “The last hour.  I don’t…  I can’t…” 

He slapped himself, hard, trying to calm down.  “Okay.  The last hour.  It did not happen.  I… I fell off my broom.  And then,” he sobbed again.  Another smack.  “And then, I woke up right here, just now.”  With a shaking hand and another sob, he pointed his wand at himself and muttered, “ _Obliviate_!”

Ron and Harry gasped. 

Hermione cried, “No!”

“Merlin’s beard,” Kingsley exclaimed.  He looked to Hermione, who was already on her feet.

“I’m on my way,” she said, heading out of the conference room.  “Draco!” she shouted, heading to Jack’s office.  “Come quickly!”

***

“He _obliviated_ himself?” Draco said incredulously as he watched the video.  “I didn’t even know that was possible!”  He looked at Hermione.  “Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

Hermione chewed on her lip.  “In theory, I can see how it would be possible,” she said, thinking it through.  “But I don’t see it being successful unless every aspect of the memory being _obliviated_ could be… isolated, somehow.  But there are far too many triggers, for that to be the case, here.”

“Which explains the bleed-through.”  Draco frowned.  “And I’ve never heard of it not being permanent.”

“Well look at the state of him, when he cast the spell.  I suppose it’s lucky he didn’t do any sort of… damage,” she trailed off, looking at Draco with a startled expression.  “Did he?”

Draco reached out and touched Hermione’s arm, a gesture of comfort.  “Don’t worry, I’ve been looking him over for the last hour, and he’s fine.  All memories intact, and now fully remembered.  Nothing that I can see that would indicate the type of damage you’re worried about.  Nothing like Lockhart, I promise.”

He began pacing.  “But I suppose this explains a lot.  I’m thinking it was just a weak spell.  Strong enough that he couldn’t throw it off without trying, but weak enough that it broke when he finally put forth some effort, today.”

“And it certainly explains why he didn’t remember being tortured, and why it bled through the way it did,” Kingsley said.

“It’s a relief to know, honestly,” Draco muttered.  “That was what was truly worrying – the unknown factor of why and how he forgot.”

They returned to the footage, which showed Ianto taking off his own shoes and, following the spell he had watched Professor Flitwick perform a half dozen times, already, created two more portkeys.  The giants, reeling from the beating Grawp had given them, were gone within minutes.

“Wow,” Hermione muttered.

“What?” Owen asked.

“Portkeys are pretty advanced,” she replied.  “And he got the spell right on the first try.”

“Well, he never did like to leave a job unfinished,” Tosh said, and a chuckle rippled around the table.

The drones had not gone inside the castle, so there was not much left to see.  Ron, Hermione and Harry described the last of the battle, which took place in the Great Hall.  “Hagrid kept trying to get Nif to sit down and rest,” Ron shook his head.  “At the time, we couldn’t figure out why.”

“When it was over, he got the rifle down from the Astronomy Tower and came to speak with me as he cleaned it,” Kingsley said.  “He had… retrieved it,” he smiled as Ron and Harry chuckled, “from a place he had been before.  But he realized too late that they had an additional camera that had not been there on his previous… visits.  He knew he had been recorded, that he would eventually be identified.  And borrowing a rifle from a military holding facility…” he trailed off. 

“But for that camera, he could have returned the thing, and no one would have been the wiser,” Hermione shook her head.

“He turned himself in to me for underage magic in the muggle world,” Kingsley continued.  “He knew no magic had been seen or caught on the security camera, but he also knew that he was as good as caught.  His circle of non-magical friends in Cardiff was… well-known.”

“So you called in some favors,” Jack said.  “But a rifle is a serious thing for a sixteen year-old to steal, and you couldn’t make it go away, altogether.  So he was charged with shoplifting.”

Kingsley nodded.  “Got his summer ruined, for his troubles.  Never uttered a single complaint, though.  I think he was angry with himself for not checking for new cameras before taking the gun.  So he took the punishment like he felt he deserved it.”

“What was the general feeling in the magical community, seeing a muggle weapon used?” Tosh asked.

Kingsley shook his head.  “There was outrage from those who did not see what the odds were, before reinforcements arrived.  But he kept the werewolves and acromantulas at bay.  And saved quite a few lives.  The muggle weapon is,” he made a face, “detestable, but no one can deny that it made a difference.  And when his age was taken into consideration, as well as his ingenuity and courage that day…”

“Don’t speak of leniency, when we all know that he had done nothing wrong, to require leniency,” Hermione said heatedly, belatedly adding, “Sir.  The only reason he wasn’t honored along with the rest of us is because of _politics_ ,” Hermione spat.  “Because of that gun.”

“What?” Jack frowned.

“Every member of Dumbledore’s Army.  Every one of us was recognized for valor for our actions at the Battle of Hogwarts,” Hermione said, her face red with anger.  “Everyone, except for Ianto.”

Jack sat back, his face stunned and angry.

“That’s,” Tosh looked from them to the screen they had just watched and back again.  “That’s just wrong,” she declared.

“Bollocks, is what it is,” Owen growled.

Ron and Harry nodded their agreement as Hermione said, “Yes, it is.”

“Pity he didn’t fight alongside the current Minister for Magic,” Jack snarked.

“Ianto understood,” Kingsley said wearily.  “It was to everyone’s benefit to let it go and move on.”

“Everyone’s but his own,” Hermione declared.  She looked at the Torchwood team.  “We all came together, after the ceremony remembering the fallen and honoring those who fought.  We all gave him our medals, and wouldn’t let him take them off.  He spent the evening sulking in the corner with twenty-odd medals hanging around his neck,” she smirked at the memory, then the smile faded.  “He gave them back, at the end of the night.  Said he didn’t need recognition from anyone but us.”  She gave a sniff.

Susan came to the door of the conference room.  “He’s beginning to stir,” she said, looking a bit awkward.  “Luna asked me to come find you, Jack.”

Jack checked his watch as he stood and was surprised to see that it was gone two in the afternoon.  “Gwen, maybe order some lunch for everyone?”

“Luna says she’ll stay,” Susan told Draco.  “We can take turns checking in, each morning.  Is it all right if we come by at eight, each morning?” she asked Jack.

“Of course,” Jack smiled his thanks.  He looked at the others.  “It was good to see you,” he said, shaking hands with Ron, Hermione, Harry and Kingsley.  Hermione asked if one or two of them could stop by, each evening, and he gave his assent.

Jack then shook hands with Susan and Draco, who said, “It will probably be the morning after tomorrow, before the aftershocks stop.  I’m sorry, but painkillers will draw it out, so please don’t give him anything.  Plenty of water, and try to get him to eat, though I doubt he’ll be able to, today or tomorrow.  For now, touch is the only comfort you can offer him.”

“That I can do,” Jack smiled.

“He doesn’t mean hanky-panky, Harkness,” Owen snarked, though he grinned at how Draco’s eyes widened and a blush spread across his pale cheeks.

Jack rolled his eyes.  “Believe it or not, I do know how to behave, Owen.”  As Owen scoffed, Jack’s face turned serious.  “Is there nothing else I can do?”

“Holding him will be a tremendous comfort,” Susan answered.  “The more skin-to-skin contact, the better, though I don’t think sex would be a good idea, at the moment.”

“Of course not,” Jack answered quickly.  “Owen’s just winding me up.”

She smirked.  “Don’t be too shocked, but Luna’s already stripped down and holding on to him.”  At Jack’s raised eyebrow, she leaned in and added, “Don’t worry, she’s engaged.  But she and Ianto have always been close friends.  They both…  Well, I think if anyone knows Ianto’s secrets, it’s Luna.”

“And vice versa,” Draco smiled.  “Best friends, but never more than that, so don’t concern yourself, Captain.”

“Oh, the only thing he’s concerned with is talking them into a threesome,” Owen was in rare form. 

“Stand down, Dr. Harper,” Jack growled.  He was in no mood.  “And what is the prognosis?”

Draco blinked, then gave a little start as Susan gasped.  “Captain, I’m so sorry we weren’t more clear.  The only danger was if he spun out when he remembered, but that went… about as well as it could have, frankly.  He’ll be fine.  What we’re doing for him now is more about improving his quality of life.”

“I can’t wait,” Susan smiled, bouncing on her feet.  “He’s going to feel so much better!”

Draco smiled.

“When do you expect the potion to start to work?”

“You’ll likely see a difference by the time the aftershocks stop.  He’ll have had three doses, by then.  He will probably sleep for a week.  Maybe two,” Susan said thoughtfully. 

Draco nodded his agreement with her assessment, but added, “Probably two.”

As the witches and wizards left, Jack faced his team.  “Take the rest of the day off.  If the rift is quiet, take tomorrow, as well, but be available for callouts.”

He turned to go, but Owen called out.  “And if we want to help watch over te… Ianto?”

Jack smiled.  “The more the merrier, but with three of us in the bed, it may get a little crowded.”  Owen groaned and Jack sobered.  “I think there’ll be plenty of opportunity, once the aftershocks wear off.  I was considering having Luna help me get him home, but I think it might be better, to keep him here.”

Everyone nodded, and they began gathering their things, to leave.  “Want me to stay?” Martha asked.

“Can you?” Jack tried to keep the pleading out of his tone.  “We’re a man down.  Two, if I have anything to say about it.”

“I understand you want to stay close.  I’ll stick around until he’s back on his feet,” Martha said, hugging him.  “Wow.  The Doctor mentioned a wizarding war, but…  That was tough to watch,” she said.  “Be gentle with him, Jack.  I can’t imagine magical PTSD being any easier to deal with than… what was it?  _Muggle_ PTSD.”

Jack chuckled.  “It’ll be easier, now that I know.  I could always sense something, you know?  The jagged edges of something broken, underneath that suit.  But…  He’s a war hero, Martha.  I don’t think anyone who wasn’t there could possibly appreciate just how important it was for those werewolves and acromantulas to be kept at bay.  And the giants…”

“I can’t help but wonder if part of the problem was being left out of being recognized.  Being shunned, like that,” she frowned.  “That minister guy seemed pretty reasonable and intelligent, but…” she sighed.  “But that’s leadership, isn’t it?  Taking the greater good into account, at the expense of the individual, despite that individual being a truly good man.”

Jack gave a dark chuckle.  “Don’t let Shacklebolt hear you say he was doing anything for the ‘greater good’,” he said.  He gave her another hug, then headed for his bunker.

***


End file.
